


Home

by reginaldthegreat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Letter, One-Shot, Reader-Insert, teeth-rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginaldthegreat/pseuds/reginaldthegreat
Summary: This is the letter George found on his pillow. You wrote it simply because you loved him; you didn’t need an anniversary or birthday to remind him that you cared.
Relationships: George Weasley/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Home

Dear George,

I like to count the lines that form at the corners of your mouth when you smile. There are a total of two when you’re trying not to smile, but five when you’re laughing at me. I like how there’s an involuntary extra crease at the right side of your mouth from all the times you’d shoot me one of your sarcastic smirks. 

When I practice my Patronus, I think of you. I like to think back to when we first met, narrowly evading Filch’s watchful gaze as we squeezed into the narrow space between the walls on the 4th floor. Our hearts were beating hard from running and I could feel the warmth radiate from your lithe body when we were pressed against each other. Remembering that wink you gave me still gives me butterflies. 

Loving you feels like crawling into bed after a long, hard day. You are full of comfort and dreams of the future. When most arms feels like cage bars, yours feel like the warmest blanket on the coldest day. Thank you for balancing me, because I always forget about where I am now when I’m too busy obsessing about who I am going to be. You remind me every time we lay under the streamlines from the window of the Gryffindor common room, trying to catch bits of dust from our fingers smudged with pencil lead, that this moment we spend together is so much more beautiful because it’s us. You remind me that I chose you and you chose me, so how bad can the future really be, knowing that? 

I remember trying not to throw up when you made those terrible pancakes with blobs of wet baking soda in the center, and you watched my every bite with your beautiful, deep brown eyes. I almost lied about how it tasted because I enjoyed your excitement. You mimicked me ever so slightly, parting your lips just a millimeter when I opened mine for another reluctant bite. You were watching for a smile- any kind of approval from me. Thank you for waking up early on a Sunday to make me pancakes because you wanted to see me smile, but gosh, for a man who can make some masterful Canary Creams, your pancakes really could’ve poisoned me. 

Nowadays, when you’re away, I walk your morning routine to feel a little bit closer to you. I take a shower when I wake up instead of before bed like usual and I use your black pepper scented conditioner, my heart twisting at the subtle smell of you. I make myself coffee, but I can’t will myself to drink it without sugar. You’re crazy for that, by the way. Then, I walk your route in Diagon Alley, passing the small building near your joke shop we spend countless hours together in. It is the place where we conjure up ideas for odd and interesting new products (and sometimes other activities as well, of the more intimate kind). Our favorite spot. 

I love you in ways I can’t always find words for. Most of the time, “I love you” doesn’t cut it. It seems weak compared to the way I feel for you. I think a stronger word is “home”. My love, you’re home. I’m home in your five-lined smile, in the dust you catch between your fingers, in your culinarily insulting pancakes, in your conditioner. I’m home in everything that gives you joy, and everything that gives you pain. Thank you for being my home and I will always be here to be yours. 

Love,  
Me


End file.
